


His Butler, Many Faces

by perfchan



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7073962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfchan/pseuds/perfchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tiny one-shots all centered around the many expressions of Sebastian and how Ciel sees them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Butler, Many Faces

“Wonderful. As usual, you completely have missed the mark, young master.” Sebastian smiled sweetly and adjusted the spectacles he regularly wore while tutoring Ciel. His lips pursed slightly as he shuffled back a few pages to an example Ciel had dutifully copied off the blackboard the previous day.

“You see,” Sebastian explained, his cheerfulness in the face of Ciel’s ineptitude virtually indefatigable, “it is no more challenging than this example, there are simply more terms with which to contend.” Sebastian motioned for Ciel to lend him the pencil, and then solved the equation, his perfect script pausing between lines to ensure that his student was following.

In return for Ciel’s grumbles that algebra would no more aid him as the Queen’s watchdog than would lessons in underwater basket weaving, Sebastian assigned him sixteen more problems to finish before the afternoon’s engagements.

Ciel couldn’t help but wonder—as he watched Sebastian lament his lack of mathematical dexterity, his dark eyebrows knit together, tut-tut-ing his way towards the kitchen to prepare tea— he couldn’t help but wonder exactly why Sebastian made quite this much effort.

……

“Tsk tsk,” the gun gently tapped Ciel’s temple in a pantomime of a wagging finger, as the man binding his arms made of show of annoyance. He appeared to have quite the penchant for the theatrical and was thoroughly enjoying having a _captive_ audience. “If it weren’t for us havin’ to….(he chuckled) havin’ to tend to your butler, we could’ve been finished with this nasty business by now. A little boy, why, he shouldn’t be late for supper, now should he?” He laughed at his own joke, an unattractive guffaw that grated on Ciel’s nerves. “Now why don’t you just be a good little boy, and…”

 

Ciel threw back his head in irritation, flipping the hair out of his eye. “Sebastian.”

 

At the sound of his name, the butler raised his head. His wrists were held in metal cuffs on a table, the fingers mangled. They had been broken, messily, one-by-one, in an attempt to withdraw information either from him or his on-looking master. However, the expression on his face was mismatched with that of a victim of torture. Ciel observed apart from the placidness that the rest of his face wore, a certain brightness was present in his eyes, as though he very much looking forward to the rest of Ciel’s command.

 

“These idiots have told us nothing our preliminary research did not already reveal. Eliminate them so we can move on to a more promising lead.”

  
There was a sickening crunch of bone rubbing on bone as Sebastian realigned all the joints of his fingers at once.

 

“Yes, my lord.” At once, Sebastian was a whirl of black and white livery, hastening to remove the gun from Ciel’s captor first, before twisting the necks of the remaining men, discarding them as neatly and efficiently as Ciel’s order had implied.

 

His face, Ciel noted, never fully lost that placidity. As he grabbed the last man by the shoulder, the other hand finding the most opportune place under the jaw, Sebastian’s expression changed very little. Ciel observed a certain level of concentration. Perhaps a slight upturn of the lips as the man crumpled to the ground, released from the butler’s attentive grasp. The only tell of actual feeling was that brightness in his eyes. As Sebastian turned, handing him his coat and cane, his expression was once again fully concealed, the picture of propriety.

 

“Now then, shall we be off, young master?”

 

……

 

“Young master, I’m coming in.” Sebastian crossed the threshold into Ciel’s darkened bedroom with a touch more hesitation than was typical. Outside, it was a sunny June afternoon, but here the curtains were drawn and the windows tightly shut. Ciel lay in the muffled darkness with a damp towel covering his eyes.

He had awoken that morning with a head that ached as though he had gotten no sleep at all. Perhaps he didn’t. Did the hours spent thrashing miserably under the duvet count towards sleep?

Ciel opened one eye to watch his butler wet a fresh towel for his aching head. Whether it were true or not, Sebastian looked the picture of misery, his face drawn and pinched though he were in just as much pain as Ciel himself.

“I confess,” Sebastian’s voice was low and smooth as he mournfully shook his head. “I confess I am at quite a loss as to what may bring these episodes about, young master.” Long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, as he knelt by Ciel’s bedside, eyes downcast. “I know of no other remedy for these headaches beyond cool compresses, and darkness, and time.” But although Sebastian’s words were unusually warm, when Ciel met his eyes, they lacked every bit of warmth he was trying to convey.

……

Ciel went on like this, observing and collecting the many expressions of his butler, his constant companion, his own personal demon. Amusement, derision, anger, caring, irritation, pride….all of them fascinated Ciel, but none so much as the slack expression Sebastian wore when not playing a role. Eyes half lidded, mouth slightly downturned, face blank.  Something...not human in the way his face failed to convey emotion. The face of a predator, a creature who calculated rather than felt. Sebastian seldom allowed himself to be caught in this manner, but it occurred to Ciel that this was the expression most likely to be worn at the end of it all. When there were no more games left to play, when Sebastian was simply collecting what he deemed as his. As chilling as this thought was, it chilled Ciel even more when animation returned to those features, a small glimpse into how artificial this charade really was.

……

Knock, knock. His butler’s two light taps came at the study door. Sebastian smiled, escorting the tea cart into the room, a single white datura resting between the plates. As the butler explained the menu with his usual flourish, Ciel settled back into the chair.

**Author's Note:**

> so I randomly wrote this one evening, all in one go. ??? weird. kind of different from what I normally write. more delving into my headcanon that Ciel is very curious about Sebastian and Sebastian is very insidious. lol 
> 
> Also, my self indulgent author-ness requires me to bang on about flowers for a bit: 
> 
> Datura (from wikipedia) : genus of nine species of poisonous vespertine flowering plants belonging to the family Solanaceae. They are commonly known as daturas, but also known as devil's trumpets.  
> I've been very mildly obsessed with florography (the meaning of flowers/using flowers to convey messages) since my hetalia days where I read a phenomenal usuk fic in which it was a central theme. annnnnyways I have a book called "The Language of Flowers" in which the datura is said to represent "deceitful charms" which is pretty much perfect for the particular devil concerned here.


End file.
